


Where You Don't See Me

by JSheets716



Category: Welcome to Hell - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, M/M, Shipping, Songfic, W2H - Freeform, mitski - Freeform, welcome to hell - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-31
Updated: 2019-08-31
Packaged: 2020-10-03 18:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,809
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20457512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JSheets716/pseuds/JSheets716
Summary: The sequel to "Some Boys"This fic is inspired by Mitski's "Francis Forever". It's been a few weeks since Sock confessed his feelings for Jonathan, and as a result, he's been reassigned to alphabetize the Hall of Crippling Phobias. While there, he begins using a demonic scrying mirror to spy on his former human counterpart. Jonathan, meanwhile, has been sorely missing his demon, and it isn't long before his girlfriend calls it off, leaving him alone. At least, until a football player named Zack literally stumbles into his life...While Sock pines for Jonathan, Jonathan becomes friends with Zack, finding he has much more in common with the football player than he ever thought possible. But Sock isn't giving up just yet. He's determined to return to Jonathan's side, no matter the cost."I don't think I can stand to be where you don't see me."





	Where You Don't See Me

**Author's Note:**

> Hey spookyholes! It's been a while since I posted the archive! So sorry for the hiatus! This fic took me almost a full year to write. Hopefully, my next fic won't take nearly as long to write. I recommend you read "Some Boys" first, since this is a direct sequel to that fic. 
> 
> Special thanks goes to Infawrit10, who beta-d this story for me. Seriously, she must have read like... 5 different versions of this story alone, and it's only because of her that I was able to finish it in the first place. She was a major help in terms of story development and characterization. So special thanks to her. Please check out her work on the archive, because she's an amazing author and you won't regret it. Thank you.
> 
> This fic is inspired by Mitski's "Francis Forever". It's a great song that I don't own but I wish I did.

** _“I don't know what to do without you…”_  
  
**It had been three weeks since Jonathan had last seen Sock, and he couldn't help but feel a distinctive absence. He'd look around, or sometimes above him, longing for just a glimpse of the demon that used to haunt his every waking moment. But there was nothing there, just as it appeared to everyone else. Life slowly returned to normal for Jonathan, normal before Sock.  
  
He felt like something was missing, like a guitar that was missing a string. The absence of the demon made his grades slowly rise, but he found that his mood continued to sour. Jonathan might have been described as grumpy before; now he was almost intolerable. He snapped at everyone he spoke to, all without good reason. And he was moody all the time, alternating between periods of anger, sadness, and indifference with frightening irregularity.  
  
Sock gazed at his human counterpart through the scrying mirror located in the Spectrophobia section of the Hall of Crippling Phobias. It was the one good thing about his job as Official Alphabetizer. The mirror’s intended purpose was to strike fear into the user, manifesting their phobias within it’s reflective surface. However, the mirror could be coaxed to show Sock anything, a trick he learned when a network executive had used it to survey the gluttons. “Learning about the enemy,” the exec explained, but Sock hardly cared about the turf war. What he cared about was his counterpart. The first thing he asked to see had been Jonathan.  
  
The mirror had denied his request at first, remaining blank. Sock couldn’t fathom why. For weeks he sat at his desk in the Hall, cursing under his breath and resisting the temptation to shatter the mirror. Just as he was about to give up, however, he had a realization. The mirror wouldn’t work because it knew his true fear: never seeing Jonathan. Once he acknowledged his fear, the mirror was willing to work with him, seemingly reluctantly, and Jonathan appeared in the mirror. As Sock observed his former counterpart, he couldn't help but long to go topside, If only to finish his conversation with Jonathan. _ “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?” _Jonathan had promised. But all tomorrow led to had been reassignment, and now he would never know how Jonathan felt about him.  
  
He missed Jonathan more than he ever thought he could.

**  
“I don't know where to put my hands…”  
  
**They fought more often than not, but Jonathan couldn't help but be stunned when Lil called it off.   
  
"I just… I can't do this anymore, Jon. I'm sorry,” she had said, with the sigh of finality that was more of a death knell than her words were.  
  
“I… Seriously?” Jonathan asked in disbelief. Lil only nodded in response. Jon immediately began to replay the last few months back in his head. All the arguments, all the fights, all the break ups and make ups…   
  
When the shock wore off, Jonathan found he felt a sensation he hadn’t expected: relief.  
  
“Okay.”  
  
“Okay?” Lil asked.  
  
“Yeah. I understand. I think it's better for us,” Jon reasoned. Lil let out a breath she didn't even realize she was holding.   
  
They agreed to part ways as friends. Jonathan knew as she walked out the door that she would never come back to his house again. He couldn’t decide how he felt about it, and landed somewhere on bittersweet. They certainly weren’t right for each other, but he was still going to miss her hanging around him all the time. Now he couldn’t help but feel lonely. He went back into his room and waited for Sock to comment, but there was no Sock to taunt him. He wondered what Sock would say about all this, and recalled the last time he spoke about Lil Nancy.  
  
_“Yeah… you guys don't even have that much in common, y’know? You guys are always fighting. You need someone you can laugh with. Someone who doesn't get scared of horror movies and will watch them with you. Someone who won't break up with you every other week and who won't ever leave you. Someone…”_  
  
And now without Lil, Jonathan had nobody. 

** _“I've been trying to lay my head down…”_  
  
**Sock stealthily flew off to the Spectrophobia section, and looked into the giant scrying mirror.  
  
“Show me Jonathan!” The demonary commanded, and he was given an image of a man he had never met. The man was an elderly gentleman, watching a television show, not the apathetic teen he wanted to see.   
  
“I said Jonathan!” he cried. Again, he was greeted with what he assumed was another Jonathan. This time a young boy, no more than three, appeared on the mirror’s surface.  
  
“Jonathan. Jonathan Combs.” The mirror flashed to a location he recognized. He was in the Combs’s house, in the bathroom. Sock grinned, eager for his blonde buddy to pop on the screen. But it didn’t happen. Instead, the mirror zoomed in on a hair comb that had been left by the bathroom sink. It didn’t take long for Sock to figure out what was happening.  
  
“Son of a… Not Jonathan’s Comb. JONATHAN COMBS. THE PERSON!” He shouted, before immediately covering his mouth. Unofficial use of the scrying mirror was forbidden. If mirrors could laugh, Sock was certain the scrying one would be cackling right now. Fortunately, however, the mirror decided to grant his request.  
  
It started by showing off the outside of the Combs household, before it changed to Jonathan’s bedroom. Sock didn't know what time it was, but he suspected it was late, as the room was pitch black. He could see a figure tossing and turning on the bed, before ultimately giving up. Jonathan flicked on the bedside lamp, took off his pajama bottoms, threw on jeans, and his signature grey hoodie.  
  
It didn't take long for Jonathan to leave the house, purple headphones wrapped on his ears and a cigarette between his lips. Sock observed the moody teen meander around his sleepy little town, before stopping at the graveyard and sneaking in through the tiny opening in the fence. It was the opening he had noticed the first time he had come to visit the graves, when Sock had proudly shown them off. Jonathan had used that opening in the fence to sneak back into the graveyard a couple times since. Jon took his time walking around, getting lost once or twice, before he stopped at Sock’s makeshift graves. Sock watched as Jonathan said something, but couldn't hear it, as the mirror didn't carry sound.  
  
“Sock? You there?” Jon asked, looking down at the grave that said “Me”. He waited, hoping that Sock would show up. He couldn’t quite understand why Sock had decided to start dodging him, but he knew that eventually the demon would want to visit his parents. Sock didn’t act as if he cared for much in the world, but even homicidal oddballs like Sock loved their parents.   
  
He snaked his way through the gate opening a half an hour later, disappointed that Sock hadn’t shown up. He tried to think back to the conversation in his kitchen, to the last time he saw Sock. _ “You really fucked that up, didn’t you, Jon….” _he scolded himself, taking the ever-familiar route home. As he rounded the corner on his block, he spotted an imposing figure shambling towards him in the distance…

** _“But I'm writing this at 3am…”_  
  
**“Zack?” Jonathan asked, as the figure nearly crashed into him. It was Zack Melto, local quarterback. He quickly removed his headphones and cradled them around his neck..  
  
“Hey! Jon! Good to see you!” Zack said, far too loudly for the dead of night. Jon saw his gaze was unfocused, and there was a slight slur to his words. Vodka trailed off every syllable he uttered. Clenched in his fist was a brown paper bag, and Jon gazed from it to Zack, wondering just how many bottles Zack had gone through tonight.  
  
“You're drunk,” Jon observed, his voice latent with wry concern. It was odd, seeing Zack intoxicated, because it was a sight Jonathan never expected to see. Zack only gave him a dopey grin in response.  
  
“Course I am. We won!” He cheered, raising a fist in the air, and the momentum caused him to topple over and hit the ground behind him. Jon couldn't help but bust out laughing, even as Zack clutched the bottle in his hands like some sort of prize. A trophy, perhaps? “Didja see the game? I didn’t see you there,” the football player asked, seemingly not even realizing he fell over at first.  
  
“Nope,” Jonathan answered, watching Zack struggle for a few moments while trying to get back on his feet. When he failed, Jonathan reluctantly offered a hand, which Zack took a little too vigorously, pulling the blonde down to the ground with him as he attempted to hoist himself up.   
  
“Dude!” Jon screamed, in surprise, his head smacking and then landing on Zack’s chest. He heard Zack giggle in delight above him, before Jonathan finally reacted and scrambled to his feet.   
  
“Sorry,” Zack said. In the faint glow of the streetlight Jonathan could see a redness to his cheeks. Any sort of annoyance Jonathan had instantly vanished.   
  
_“Zack is such an idiot.”_  
  
“Come on. Let's try again.” Jonathan muttered, more to himself than anything else. It took some doing, but he eventually managed to get the larger teen on his feet, using himself as a crutch to support Zack as he walked. It was a scene he’d never want Sock or his classmates to see. But the alternative was leaving Zack to sleep on the gravel, and that seemed too cruel, even for someone as indifferent as Jonathan. So he led the football player to his own front door.  
  
“This isn't my place,” Zack said, giving the house a once over to be absolutely sure, squinting in the light from the street lamps.  
  
“It's mine,” Jon replied, and Zack let out an excited noise, akin to a bird chirping.  
  
“You're taking me home? Where’s the romance? You could have at least bought me dinner first,” Zack teased, and Jon’s face turned a bright shade of scarlet. He couldn't help but be reminded of Sock. He pushed that aside for the time being as he led Zack inside, who was giggling at his own joke. Jon used the flashlight on his phone to get as view of his bearings in the dark house, using his other hand to keep Zack steady. He caught a glimpse of the time: 3:06.

** _“I don't need the world to see..”_  
  
**Sock watched Jonathan drag Zack up to his bedroom, the blonde teen sometimes chiding Zack to be quiet as they staggered through the house. Jonathan only relaxed once they reached his bedroom. Once inside, he gave the football player a rough shove, and Zack went careening onto Jonathan’s bed. Zack let out a yelp of surprise as he flew across the room, and Jonathan burst out laughing for the second time that night as he closed the door behind him.  
  
Light flicked on and filled the room as Jonathan hit the switch by the door, and Zack squinted for a few seconds, getting his bearings. He steadied himself on Jon’s bed, sitting on it so that he was facing the door, facing Jonathan. The bottle of vodka was still wrapped in his hands, cradled in its brown paper bag.  
  
“There you are. For a second there was three of you,” Zack said, as his eyes finished adjusting to the sudden brightness.  
  
Jon scoffed, and spoke. “Well there's not.”  
  
Zack grinned. “A shame. I liked those odds,” he teased. At least, Jonathan suspected it was teasing, as Zack winked after he said it. “Want some?” The football player then asked, offering the bottle to Jon, who studied it warily, and then took it. He took a swig, and wretched at the bitter taste.  
  
“How the hell do you drink that?” Jon asked, his face still pursed in a bitter display of displeasure.  
  
“It's better with a chaser; and easier when you're already drunk,” Zack said, with a chuckle, taking his turn to laugh at Jon, who took another swig and cringed afterward. The liquor felt warm in his chest, and he walked over and joined Zack on the bed, sitting right next to him.   
  
Zack stared at the room around him, taking it all in. The bed was a mess, the blankets thrown about haphazardly, and posters of various bands lined the walls. The most prominent feature was the massive Valhalla Soundbox poster that took up the east wall. A wooden dresser held a TV and a PlayStation on top. Jonathan’s closet rested a guitar case and an amp. It was all quintessential Jonathan.  
  
“Nice room,” Zack commented, and Jonathan felt his face get warm, though he wasn't sure if it was the booze or the compliment. After all, it wasn't often he had guests. “Cool Valhalla Soundbox poster,” Zack added casually. Internally, however, Zack was excited. He was in a hot guy’s bedroom!  
  
Jonathan stared at the football player. He’d never guess they had the same taste in music. At first, he thought he was going to regret the decision to help Zack that evening. Now, his curiosity was piqued. 

“You like Valhalla Soundbox?”

** _“That I've been the best I can be, but…”_ **

Sock scowled at the scrying mirror, recognizing the football player from Jonathan’s school. He couldn't recall the name, but he very distinctly remembered the brown-haired boy staring at Jonathan in the school’s bathroom when Sock harassed him in the urinal. “They're friends now?” Sock asked himself in surprise.

He watched the two talk for a bit, wishing there was a way he could eavesdrop on the pair. 

“How can I get audio on this thing?” Sock muttered aloud, a habit of his when he was alone. “Maybe there's a haunted speaker I can connect to? Now what was the fear of sound again? Phonophobia? Sonophobia?” He flew off to find some way to get audio on the mirror, because he was tired of watching their lips move and not hearing anything.

Jonathan put music on the stereo, putting on his favorite Valhalla Soundbox albums. He and Zack spent some time discussing music and trading off the bottle, listing their favorite albums and debating which Valhalla Soundbox album was the best.

“Nothing is better than Growth of Yggdrasil!” Zack argued.

“Ratatosk’s Revenge begs to differ. It has Falling Leaves, the Squirrel’s Lament and Winter Harvest,” Jon countered.

“Winter Harvest isn't even a good song, Zack taunted.

Jonathan let out what only could be described as a mocking laugh. “That’s where you’re wrong, Zack. Clearly you’re not understanding the artistry behind the song.” Jonathan watched as Zack rolled his eyes, and he couldn’t help but be a little shocked. He was Valhalla Soundbox’s biggest fan! And Zack was doubting his authority?   
  
“What artistry? He’s just singing about plants,” Zack reasoned.

Jonathan was about as stunned as the time Sock had mentioned he’d never heard of the band. “Are you… are you serious right now? Have you ever even HEARD the song?” Another eye roll from Zack. He was aware he was being condescending, and every instinct in his body was telling him to shut up at that point, because he knew he was being annoying. But on the other hand, this was his favorite band they were discussing, and he couldn’t let Zack have any negative opinion about Valhalla Soundbox.   
  
“Apparently not,” Zack admitted, with a laugh. Clearly he knew nothing, a mistake which Jonathan was going to correct. So before Zack could say anything, Jonathan went over to his stereo and played the “Winter’s Harvest” track.  
  
He knew he should just shut up and let Zack listen to the song, but as the melody began, he found himself talking: “See, the singer is burying seeds in a dead garden, even though winter is on it’s way and the garden is dead. And then we get to the chorus, which is an upbeat melody about the wonderful things he’s trying to grow. Then in the second verse-“

Zack did his best trying to focus on Jonathan’s lecture. He was tuned into Jonathan’s every word, actively avoiding the background noise of the singer to focus in on Jonathan’s smooth, deep voice. He still couldn’t believe he was there, in Jonathan Combs’s room, listening to him ramble on about music. At some point, he got lost in just how blue Jonathan’s eyes were. Then it was over and Zack had lost all focus entirely. He couldn’t help but wonder how soft Jonathan’s lips were, and what they tasted like, and…

“Dude? You okay?” Jonathan asked, and Zack snapped back to attention.  
  
“Huh? Yeah,” Zack replied, sheepishly, his face turning a shade of bright scarlet. 

Jonathan couldn’t keep the look of annoyance away. It was hard not to be frustrated. He finally opened up to someone about music, and they couldn’t even give their full attention. Jonathan couldn’t help but be disheartened. He regretted ever opening his stupid mouth.

“Can I use your bathroom?” Zack suddenly asked, and Jonathan said nothing but got up, opened the door, and pointed down the hall. He watched Zack shamble for the door in the darkened hallway of the house, regretting his act of earlier kindness. At least the night would be over soon.  
  
Jonathan went to the bottle of Vodka while he waited for Zack, grimacing slightly at the taste. Even with a buzz it didn’t taste good. Soon enough, Zack returned with a look of newfound determination on his face.  
  
“Okay, I’m ready to hear the gardening song.”  
  
“Just forget it, Zack,” Jonathan said, as indifferently as he possibly could. He noticed the look of remorse cross Zack’s face, and part of him couldn’t help but be glad it was there. He wanted Zack’s guilt. It made him feel vindicated and pleased all at once.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to space out, I just…” Zack found himself turning a shade of mulberry red, not helped by his intoxication. Jonathan waited for him to finish, and as he studied Zack, he found that Zack was avoiding making eye contact with him. Zack opened his mouth but nothing was coming out. For a few brief moments, Jonathan was worried Zack was getting ready to vomit.

A beat passed and nothing happened, Jonathan helped him along. “I’m boring you. You can just say it, dude. We don’t have to talk, I can turn on the TV and we-”

Zack approached the bed, and sat back down, making eye contact with Jonathan for the first time that conversation. “You’re not boring,” Before he realized it, his hand was on Jonathan’s shoulder. 

“Keep going. I wanna hear more.”

** _“I don't think I can stand to be…”_ **

Jonathan relented, and began his explanation over again. This time, Zack was at rapt attention, fully alert. At the end of the discussion, Zack couldn’t help but admit maybe he had misjudged the song. 

This one conversation led way to several, and Jon wasn’t sure if it was the alcohol or not, but he slowly felt himself get more comfortable with Zack. The two sat together on the bed, passing the bottle back and forth, sharing stories. They jumped from subject to subject; music to movies to art and books and everything in between. As they talked, Jon couldn’t help but wonder: Why hadn’t they spoken sooner?

The last time Jon had talked this much had been when he had been getting to know Sock, but even that had been with reluctance. it was the only way he could cope with Sock, by calling the demon “friend,” because Sock would never leave him alone. But with Zack, talking came naturally. He was sharing things about himself he never had with anyone. And Zack seemed just as eager to share. 

“So how’s Lil?” Zack asked, when there was a lull in conversation. “Everything going okay?”

Jon shrugged. “You’ll have to ask her. We broke up.” he said, almost as if he was talking about the weather. The sense of relief washed over him again. He took a long swig from the bottle.

“Shit. Sorry, man,” Zack winced in sympathy.

“S’fine,” Jonathan replied. Before he realized it, Zack had scooched closer to him on the bed, and suddenly Zack’s big right arm was wrapping around his back. Zack pulled him into a half hug of sorts, and Jonathan instinctively tried to pull away, not understanding what was happening, but Zack held tight.  
  
“Well, if you need someone to talk to, I’m here for ya,” Zack promised, genuinely. Jonathan looked over at his newfound… friend(?) and saw that Zack’s face was reddening. A faint, lingering smell that Jon hadn’t noticed before suddenly hit his nose. It was cologne, Zack’s cologne. It smelled… really nice. Like a mix of sandalwood and citrus. 

“You okay? Cause it’s okay if you’re not okay. Breakups suck,” Zack said, reaching with his free hand for the bottle. Jonathan let him take it. “Besides, I’d say she lost out.” 

Zack’s grip on Jonathan relaxed, and he moved his arm away, releasing him entirely. “I’m fine, really. It was a long time coming…” A glance passed between the two, Jonathan’s blue eyes connecting with Zack’s brown eyes. “What do you mean, ‘she lost out?’” Jon asked.The redness in Zack’s face intensified. “You're a total catch, man,” Zack blurted out, a nervous grin forming on his face.

Jon’s head was swimming and spinning all at once. “Huh?”

Zack smirked. “God, why are the pretty ones so dumb,” Zack said with a laugh, “You’re hot, dude.” There was a glint in Zack’s eyes that reminded Jonathan of Sock, but when he blinked again, it was gone. Jon felt the heat rise in his cheeks and suddenly he felt very warm, toasty to the point of being uncomfortable. He unzipped his hoodie and threw it off, revealing nothing but a plain white tee.

“...thanks?” He felt Zack’s gaze travel up and down his chest. He was being checked out, he knew, and he felt his reddening face get a shade darker. For some reason he didn’t quite understand, he liked feeling Zack’s eyes on him. And then it hit him...

“Are you gay, Zack?”

Zack laughed. Loudly, uproariously, and with a level of mirth Jonathan hadn't seen or heard in ages. Jonathan looked at him quizzically, honestly confused. 

“I'm president of our school’s LGBT+ club, Jon. I took Henry Carmichael to junior prom,” Zack explained. 

Jonathan furrowed his brow. He wondered at first how he didn't realize this. Then he remembered the reason; that required being sociable, which he didn’t like to do. He tended to avoid dances and clubs. “Oh. Cool. So what's it like being gay?”

“Well, you get a member's card, and you get a jacket made of glitter. Cher comes to your door and hand-delivers rainbow muffins,” Zack quipped, sarcastically.

Jon cackled in delight. He couldn't remember laughing this hard.

** _“Where you don't see me…”_ **

Sock flew back from searching the Sonophobia section and scowled at the sight of Jon laughing in the mirror. He remembered the first time he had gotten Jonathan to laugh. It had been after he had taken off his hat. Now he HAD to get sound on the mirror. He had to know why Jonathan was laughing…

The album that was their background noise died down, and the bottle was nearing its end. Jonathan was feeling good, though. And it was all thanks to Zack, who had been the first person to make him smile or laugh in weeks. He studied the football player’s physique. Zack was big… he had to be in order to tackle his opponents. But there were firm muscles under that jacket of his. He was like the anti-Sock, in terms of musculature. The thought was simultaneously frightening and exciting. He knew he had seen Zack in the locker rooms at school, but he had never really paid attention to him before. Now he couldn’t help but wonder. His gaze traveled from Zack’s broad chest, downward…

“Eyes up here, Jon,” Zack said with a teasing smirk. Jon immediately turned red, and crossed his arms in a defensive posture. Zack stuck his tongue out at Jon, playfully.

“Pft. I don't know what you're talking about,” Jon feigned innocence. 

“So you totally weren't checking me out right now?” Zack asked, slyly. Jonathan turned red again. He took a swig from the remnants of the bottle.

“No. You were checking me out. I'm the hot one, remember,” Jonathan joked, nudging Zack playfully. He couldn't resist teasing. 

“And so modest,” Zack said with a laugh, poking Jonathan back.

“There has never been anyone more modest than me in the history of the world,” Jon cackled, laughing when Zack made a grab for the bottle and missed. 

Jon held it back, however, just out of Zack’s reach. Zack chuckled and made another grab, only for Jonathan to scoot back on the bed, further away. Zack lunged forward, and knocked into Jonathan, landing on top of him, pinning him to the bed. Zack looked down at Jonathan, who stared back. The air suddenly rang with Zack’s laughter. It was pretty ridiculous, after all. Fighting over a bottle? Jon found the laughter contagious, and couldn't resist laughing as well. Before they knew it, both boys were laughing together, a mirthful sort of music filling the bedroom. Jon’s stomach seemed to do flips in response, suddenly liking the sound of Zack’s laugh more than he ever expected.  
  
Jon looked up at Zack, noting a beauty mark on his chin and Jon followed it downward, down Zack’s neck to his chest, which was pressed against his. He couldn't see, but he could feel the rest of Zack pinning him to the bed. When he tried to shove Zack away, Zack grabbed his hands and shoved them down into the mattress. Zack clearly won this round. And Jonathan found he didn't mind.

“You're not that bad looking, I guess...” Jon said, with fake reluctance. “I GUESS some would call you attractive. Handsome, maybe.”

“What do you think?” Zack asked, his gaze traveling from Jonathan’s face and downward. His voice had taken on a husky quality, and his face was mere inches from Jonathan’s now. It was clear what he wanted to do, but he held himself back. Jon braced himself, waiting, part of him even perhaps hoping for what would come next...

But it never happened. A beat passed. Then another. Jonathan could feel his heartbeat in his ears and he waited anxiously for Zack to do something, anything. An idea entered his head, one that had he never would have considered before tonight. But now... Jonathan knew what he wanted to do. He tried to move, but Zack still held him down. Then...

“I think...” Jonathan’s voice faded quietly before he could finish the sentence.

“Hm?” Zack replied.

“Can… can I…?” Jon asked. Zack waited for him to finish the sentence, and Jon let out a frustrated groan when Zack was still waiting. “I want to…” Jon still tried to move, but Zack wouldn't let him. “Would you just-”

Sock returned from the Audiophobia section, speaker-less, and his eyes widened in horror at the sight of Jonathan and Zack in the mirror.

“WHAT ARE YOU DOING!?” The demon screamed, though of course neither could hear him.

Zack released his grip on Jonathan just enough for Jon to drop the bottle and pull the football player’s face to his. Jon squeezed his eyes shut and leaned up. His lips lightly brushed against Zack’s, tentatively and softly. He was kissing Zack, who had frozen in place. Jon pulled away, his eyes opening nervously, suddenly afraid. 

“Fuck,” Jon muttered, his voice shaking. He looked up to see Zack staring down at him. “I’m sorry, I-”

Zack leaned down and suddenly his lips were on Jon’s, cutting off whatever he was going to say. Jon kissed him back, amazed. It was entirely different than kissing Lil. Kissing her, while nice, didn't have quite the same intensity as kissing Zack. With Zack, it felt like fireworks were going off in his brain. There was a hunger for more, and Zack seemed more than happy to oblige. Jonathan didn’t want to stop, and Zack matched that ferocity. The near-empty bottle rolled off the bed, forgotten, shattering when it hit Jonathan’s wooden floor.

The glass shattered as Sock’s fist connected with the scrying mirror, cracking and showing various images of the kissing pair in the shards. Jon and Zack. Zack and Jon. It was too much for the demon to bear. He threw his other fist against the glass, and just kept punching and punching, shattering the broken mirror even further.

The two teens continued kissing with an amorous fervor. Zack eventually broke the kiss, panting as he came up for air. He glanced down at Jonathan, who was looking up at him with a newfound hunger in his eyes. “You sure this is okay?” Zack asked.

Emboldened by the alcohol, Jon nodded. “We can talk about this tomorrow, okay?” And not waiting for a response, he leaned up and kissed Zack again.

** _“On sunny days I go out walking…”_ **

Jonathan woke up first, his head throbbing. He had fallen asleep holding Zack, and had woken up that way. It took him a few moments to realize where he was, and who he was with. And once that realization hit him, he scrambled to his feet. He nearly tripped over Zack climbing out of bed, and scrambled to the bathroom.

He replayed the night in his head. He couldn't recall much. Just their horseplay, and then the kiss. Several kisses, actually. Everything after that had been a blur. He studied his face in the mirror, and found that for the first time in a long while he didn't look totally miserable. He caught sight of a hickey on his neck, and immediately tried to quell the sudden stirring that gave him. Fire burned in his cheeks as a dopey grin formed on his face. He’d made out with a hot guy, after all. He wasn't sure what that made him, but he decided to worry about that later. 

He returned to his room to find Zack, stretching and yawning and still waking up. “Morning, Jon.”

“Morning.”

“Wanna grab breakfast? Greasy food is good for hangovers, and I got a major one,” Zack suggested. Jonathan watched Zack’s chest heave slightly as he stretched, fully sitting up and hanging his feet off the bed.

“Sure,” Jon said, going to throw on his hoodie. He didn't say much else, merely watched as Zack searched for his jacket and keys. In the warm morning light, with his bed-head, Zack looked handsome, even amongst the stirring of sleep.

“Sleep ok?” Jon asked as they put on their sneakers. He kept his voice as casually as possible. 

“Like a rock. Thanks for letting me crash here,” Zack said with a smile.

“Well, it was that or have you sleep on the concrete, so…”

“Still, thanks. We should do this again sometime,” Zack said, turning slightly red.

“I'd like that,” Jon admitted, blushing back.

The day was bright, too bright, and Zack and Jonathan both squinted in the sunlight as they began the trek to the local diner. It was a beautiful day, and despite Jon’s headache, he was enjoying the sunshine. The two boys walked in silence for a bit, both lost in thought about last night and what it meant. Prior to last night, the two had barely spoken in school. Now, though…

“So…” Jon started.

** _“I end up on a tree lined street…”_ **

“So,” Zack repeated.

“Last night was…” Jonathan started, suddenly feeling his face grow hot. They turned a corner as they walked through their suburbia, the sunlight broken by neatly spaced trees.

“Good?” Zack offered. Not just offered, hoped.

“It was,” Jon croaked out, the smile on his lips forming before he could stop it. “I… uh, I…”

“Yeah?” Zack asked, pausing in his walk to study Jonathan. The boy was disheveled, wearing last night’s clothing, his blonde bed-head sticking out and fanning wildly. It was, in Zack's opinion, adorable.

Seeing Zack had stopped, Jon slowed up as well, and continued speaking. “...hope that was okay? I mean. I don't know what came over me, and…” Jon continued, somewhat nervously. He hated fumbling over his words and being awkward, but he wasn't quite sure how to explain what he was feeling. 

Zack smiled. “I had fun. Are you okay with it?” It was the moment of truth. He was curious to see how Jonathan was gonna handle this. Would he blame it on the alcohol and never want to speak of it again? Or would he want something more?

“I think so? I… I mean I definitely enjoyed it. But… I was drunk and I just got out of a relationship, so I don't know if it was a mistake or not,” Jon admitted, truthfully. Zack’s face fell, but he was quick to hide it, nodding in understanding.

“Got it.” Zack said, hiding any disappointment as much as he could. In truth, he had been harboring a crush on Jonathan for a while. He just hadn't been able to show it. Last night had been a dream come true for the quarterback, but now it was time to wake up.

Zack started walking again, but Jonathan hadn't moved. Seeing that his friend had stopped, Zack turned around.

“...But I… I want to see you again. I mean, if I can. If that's alright?” Jonathan asked, deciding to screw the awkwardness and get it all out in the open. “...I'd like to take it slow, you know? But last night was… the best night I had in awhile, and I think it's because of you. So can we hang out some more… as more than friends?”

“...You asking me out, Jon?” Zack asked, and practically beamed when Jonathan nodded in answer.

“...Shut up,” Jonathan mumbled, embarrassed, turning his blue eyes away from the football player and toward the ground instead. Zack could practically feel his heart doing cartwheels. Jonathan was so awkward and adorable and Zack couldn’t help but grin, ear to ear. 

Jonathan sighed and took a deep breath. If he was going to do this, he might as well do this right: “Do you wanna go out on a date with me?” He forced himself to look straight at Zack, his stomach forming knots. He had never felt this vulnerable before. Even sleeping with Lil, which was about as vulnerable as he had ever been, paled in comparison to this.

The words were out of Zack’s mouth immediately. “HELL YEAH!” Zack shouted, making Jonathan nearly jump in surprise. Zack blushed and rubbed the back of his head awkwardly, giggling to himself. Jon’s heart pounded double time in his chest at the sound of Zack’s laughter. He couldn’t help but chuckle and smirk, his face bright red.

“You’re such a dork, Zack.” Zack merely grinned in reply, and Jon felt his stomach do flips in his chest.  
  
After a few moments, Jonathan spoke: “...Does this mean I get a muffin basket?” He joked, trying to divert attention from his reddening cheeks.

Zack laughed and walked over to Jon. “We’ll see. Now come on. Let's go get breakfast,” He said, throwing an arm around Jon as they stepped out from under the trees and started walking towards the diner.

** _“I look up at the gaps of sunlight…”_ **

Jon relaxed, glad that he got the events of last night straightened out. He couldn't really remember how they got from discussing music to making out, but he knew he had a fun time and he hoped that the two of them would be able to do that again. 

Zack was practically glowing, feeling absolutely thrilled. The guy he had a crush on had finally noticed him. It made him feel like he could accomplish anything. He already began planning possible date ideas. The last thing he needed was to screw all this up. The two started walking again, in tandem, crossing the street and away from the shady trees. 

The sun shone down on them. Before it had been harsh and too bright, but now it was warm and invigorating. Even with the hangover, Jon felt ready to take on the world. Zack, for his part, was as giddy as can be, and he immediately started a discussion about who was the better bassist in Valhalla Soundbox. The two has a great time getting breakfast, and before they realized it, they were en route to the mall, wrapped up in more conversation.

The more Zack talked, the more fascinated Jonathan became. The two had known one another for years, but had never really spoken outside of a few of Zack’s clumsy greetings in the hallways. Perhaps a few words had been exchanged in class. But there was so much for Jon to learn. Zack even made the normally abysmal topic of football interesting.

“I got a game this Friday. Come cheer me on?” Zack asked, as their day together drew to a close. They were standing on Jonathan’s stoop. The sun was beginning to set, and Zack had decided to walk Jonathan to his front door, like a true gentleman.

Jon smirked, and pretended to think about it. “I don't know… What's in it for me?” 

“You get to see me get my ass kicked.” 

“Tempting...” Jon said with a chuckle.

“And I look damn good in a football uniform,” Zack said, with a surprising amount of confidence that Jon found himself attracted to. Thoughts of kissing Zack right there on the stoop threatened to overtake him. He pushed them away, reluctantly. He needed to go slow, after all. And there was some fun to be found in flirting.

“...That’s not as tempting. You’re losing me, Zack.” Zack laughed in response, and moved closer to Jonathan.

“Come on. I'll play better if I have a hot guy cheering me on,” Jon snorted, seemingly in disbelief, but he blushed at the compliment nevertheless. He forced himself to scowl and play it off, fighting the smile that was creeping up on him.

“Get your eyes checked, dude, because I'm not hot. If anyth-…” Jon was silenced when Zack leaned forward and kissed him on the lips. Jon’s heart skipped a beat in his chest and he pulled Zack closer to reciprocate. He was relieved. It wasn't just a drunk thing. Kissing Zack had been just as enjoyable sober. When he pulled away, he was smiling. 

“I'll think about it,” Jon promised, leaning forward and giving Zack a final liplock before heading inside. As he closed the door he slumped against it with a happy sigh. He knew that he was definitely going to go.

** _“I miss you more than anything…”_ **

“Do you know why I called you here, Sowachowski?” The ginger man in the mulberry suit asked. He was seated at his desk, across from Sock. His posture was relaxed, hunched forward over the desk like he was leaning in to whisper a secret.

Sock shrugged, playing innocent. There were several reasons why he could have possibly been called in. The broken scrying mirror was at the top of the list, but he could think of others. Sneaking into the Hall of Crippling Phobias after hours, unauthorized use of demonic paraphernalia, his complete and total lack of organization, stealing one of Mephistopheles’s pens. As he counted out this list in his head, he wished he had returned the pen. Perhaps that might have gotten him some mercy.  
  
“No idea, sir,” Sock’s voice betrayed him and quivered on the last syllable. There was a glint in Mephistopheles’s eyes, and Sock got the distinct impression the Devil could tell he was lying. If he did, however, his boss didn’t acknowledge it.  
  
“Alright, well why don’t we reflect on it, shall we?” Meph suggested, and the impending sense of doom the demon was feeling suddenly intensified as he registered what his boss had said.

_“Oh no.” _ the demon thought.  
  
“I’m sure we can scry it out.”  
  
_ “Puns.” _ Sock could feel his breath catch in his throat.  
  
“Sir...” Sock paused, briefly considering jumping out in front of this before Mephistopheles kept going. Meph, however, cut him off at the pass.  
  
“I’m sure if you think about it, you’ll see the reason I called you here. The reason is pretty clear. Clear as glass, you might say,” Mephistopheles encouraged.  
  
_ “Oh come on. That one wasn’t even good.” _  
  
Sock couldn’t help but let out a groan of annoyance, and Mephistopheles couldn’t help but chuckle. “I’ll stop with the puns if you just tell me what you did.”

Sock considered this, and opened his mouth to speak again, before he was interrupted.

“I can keep goin’. My puns can be very mercurial, kid,” Meph said. Sock furrowed his brow. That was definitely another pun. He was sure of it, but he didn’t see how. 

“...mercurial?” Sock asked, momentarily forgetting that he should probably be confessing.

“It’s a pun, Sowachowski. Cause mirrors were made from mercury? Mercur-ial. Why do I even bother?” The Devil asked him, shaking his head sadly. “Will you just tell me what ya did?”

A beat passed. And then another. For a few minutes Mephistopheles waited for his employee to speak. Mephistopheles straightened up in the chair, stretching his arms and his back, going from a slouched position to a straight-laced, formal one. His back was rigid against the chair, and he folded his hands together before placing them in front of him on the mahogany desk. He had a soft spot for the demon, and though he had to dole out punishment, he wanted at least to hear Sock’s side of the story.

While Mephistopheles straightened up, Sock thought of how to answer. But he wasn’t quite sure how to begin. After all, he had been reassigned precisely because he had feelings for Jonathan. And now he had broken the mirror because of Jonathan. He doubted he’d be allowed to work in the Hall of Crippling Phobias, which begged the question of what would happen to him now. Would he be fired? He fought back the mental image of himself burning alive while his boss skewered him with a pitchfork, and felt his insides writhing in terror. He didn’t want to explain.

_“Just don’t say anything, Sock,” _ he told himself.

Seeing that Sock wasn’t going to answer, Mephistopheles tried another question, trying to keep his voice as neutral as possible. “How'd my scryin’ mirror break?”

Sock shrugged, and at first was content with saying nothing. But then, after a few moments, he spotted the look of frustration that was growing on his boss’s face. Sock watched as Meph tapped his fingers against the mahogany desk impatiently. The rapping started out quietly, but seemed to grow louder and louder with each passing second. Pretty soon Sock could hear it echoing around in his skull, akin to a heartbeat thudding in his ears. Meph glowered at his charge while he waited. It was enough to make Sock reconsider the silent treatment. 

“I dunno!” Sock blurted out, after several agonizing seconds. “Mirrors break all the time. Guess that's seven years of bad luck.” 

Mephistopheles stopped his tapping.

Meph’s scowl lessened slightly, pleased Sock was at least starting to cooperate. But he didn’t have all day for Sock’s stalling. He examined Sock from behind the desk, his golden eyes softening. “I know it was you, Sowachowski. You're the only one that goes into the Hall of Crippling Phobias. And we know you've been hangin’ around the Spectrophobia section after hours. I’m givin’ you a chance to explain yourself here. Take it,” Mephistopheles advised. There was a paternal sternness to his voice, like a frustrated father trying desperately to connect with his son. It was a bit of friendly advice that Sock suspected he wouldn’t get if he wasn’t one of Meph’s favorites. 

Sock hesitated, and opened his mouth to speak, but couldn’t find the words. He couldn’t explain. Mephistopheles wouldn’t understand. Sock couldn’t even fully understand it. Jonathan made him feel like no one else ever had. Being apart from him was agonizing, and not seeing him every day was torture. And the fact that he was never going to see Jonathan again was worse than any sort of punishment Mephistopheles could throw at him. Or so he thought...

“Alright. Why don’t we see what you've been lookin’ at? Mephistopheles said. 

As if on cue, the door opened, and in stepped Tom. He merely gave a polite nod to his boss as he handed something to him before leaving. Tom’s countenance hadn't changed at all during the delivery, as he was ever the loyal worker. Sock’s innards twisted nervously inside him like coiled serpents, and he couldn’t help but anticipate the worst. 

Mephistopheles held up the item Tom had given him: a shard of the scrying mirror. It was a relatively large piece, about the size of the Devil’s hand. Sock wondered how it had escaped his notice. He thought he had disposed of every piece of the scrying mirror in the demonic incinerator. Meph let go of the mirror shard, and it floated in place over the desk between the Devil and his protégée.

“Okay wait-” Sock tried to reason, his voice cracking in desperation. He felt like a man who was about to have his browser history exposed. 

“Yea, kid?” Meph paused, his golden eyes glinting mischievously. This was going to be good, he knew. It had to be, if Sock was this freaked out about it. The Devil briefly considered holding on the shard as a tool for blackmailing the kid, but then thought better of it. He liked Sock too much for that. But there was nothing stopping the Devil from screwing with him...

“I can explain what I was looking at. See, I was using it to-” The words caught in Sock’s throat and hung there. Images of Jonathan kissing that other boy burned through his mind, and Sock couldn’t help but feel his chest tighten in response. His tongue moved to get the words out but no sound could be made. He couldn’t bring himself to say it. He looked at Mephistopheles for sympathy, to somehow understand what he was failing to convey.

But Mephistopheles wasn’t a mind-reader. Or if he was, he wasn’t a good one.

“To…?” Meph goaded, waiting for the demonary to finish the explanation. But it never came. “Tick tock, Sock. I don’t like to be kept waiting…” he warned, his golden hues slowly darkening to black, the worry lines in his face terraforming to creases of anger. Gone was his jovial smile; a Glasgow grin was in its place. Sock sat there, terrified. Of his boss, of the truth, of everything.

When it became clear Sock wouldn’t, or perhaps couldn’t speak, Mephistopheles decided to take some action. With a dramatic flourish he spoke: “Mirror mirror, cracked and crashed, show me why you were smashed!” There was a beat, and the mirror didn't react.

Almost instantaneously, Meph reverted back to his old self, and Sock was greeted with his amber colored eyes and neutral features, which were back to their constantly harrowed state. Meph groaned in annoyance and poked the mirror. “Alright, I get it. I suck at rhymes. Just show me what you showed Sock.” 

The mirror shard activated, and on the shard were the images of Jon and Zack on the bed. Meph watched from his side of the desk, and Sock watched from his. Zack had pinned Jon to the bed, and soon they were kissing. Sock could feel his heart breaking all over again, and he turned away from the shard as the hot tears began to fall from his eyes.

The mirror flicked off, and when Mephistopheles looked back, he found a teary-eyed demonary. He froze in place. He had never seen Sowachowski show any form of emotion other than exuberance or excitement. He hadn’t even been that distraught about sleep-murdering his parents. But here he was, crying over a boy. For the first time Mephistopheles noted just how young his protogeé really was.

“Sowachowski, I'm sorry...” Meph said, sadly, as Sock hurriedly tried to wipe the tears away.

** _“I don't need the world to see…”_ **

“Kid, this is the kinda thing I was tryin’ to protect ya from,” Mephistopheles chided. “You can't be with your counterpart. It just isn’t done that way. Sometimes two people… they aren't meant to be together, and nothin’... Nothin’ in all of existence can change that.” There was a tone of sympathy in his voice, and Sock got the distinct impression he wasn't just referring to Sock and Jonathan.

He seemed to realize he said too much because the tall man tugged on the collar of his shirt and stood up. He spoke to break the tension he inadvertently developed. “Can I just ask, what is it with this kid?” The Devil said, gesticulating wildly to the blank mirror shard still levitating in the air. 

Sock didn’t answer, Meph turned around, to the large wall of stacked file cabinets, and yanked one open. It took some digging, but he pulled up a Manila folder that was all too familiar to Sock: Jonathan’s file.

“I mean would ya look at this? Likes: Sandwiches. Dislikes: Most of the things. Eyes: Half-lidded. Hair: Animation? What does that even mean?” The Devil asked aloud, more to himself than to Sock. He shook his head as he leafed through the file, before giving up and dropping it down on the desk, sliding it to Sock.

Sock saw Jonathan’s picture in the file. The look of total annoyance and frustration on Jon’s face made Sock want to melt. Jonathan’s beautiful blue eyes, that frown of disapproval, all of it was lovely, even captured in the confines of a picture that Jonathan hadn’t seemed to know was being taken. He tried not to think about the fact that he’d never see Jonathan again. 

Meph watched Sock’s face change emotions before ultimately softening. “Can I ask… What do you see in Combs?” Mephistopheles asked. Sock frowned and met Mephistopheles’s eyes. 

“Why do you want him to kill himself? He’s gotta be special if you want his soul,” Sock challenged. Meph raised an eyebrow in surprise, and couldn’t help but smirk, as Sock stared him down. The Lord of Hell gave no answer, however. But truthfully, he couldn’t help but be a little impressed. Sock was stubborn, sure, but Meph couldn’t help but like being challenged. Sock wouldn’t get to know the answer, however. He was already too emotionally compromised.

“Now... What do I do about you?” Meph asked Sock, changing the subject.

Sock said nothing. Normally he'd be apprehensive, but he found his mind drifting back to Jonathan as his gaze traveled from his boss and back to the mirror. His eyes were focused on the shard of glass, on what he saw, what he was trying not to remember and never see again. He forced his gaze away before the nausea in his stomach started up again, and focused instead on the file, on Jonathan’s picture.

“I mean, you can't be a demonary… and you can't focus on organizing phobias. Do you have any ideas on what I should do? What should be a fitting punishment...” Mephistopheles said, darkly, seemingly waiting for some sort of reaction. Sock gave none. Any and all fire had been extinguished from his eyes. The Devil scowled when he saw things weren't going his way.

A sigh from the man in red. “So, we're gonna try this again, kid. Last chance. You get one more strike then you're out, Sowachowski. Report here tomorrow morning for your new assignment. Got it?”

“Yes sir,” Sock replied sedately. The trepidation Sock had felt regarding the whole meeting evaporated, but he found he didn’t feel better in the slightest. If anything, he felt substantially worse. 

“I trust you’ll come and I won’t have to have Tom tell me when tomorrow is, yeah?” Mephistopheles asked, making sure Sock had heard him. He didn’t quite understand the logistics of time, but his demons did. And if Mephistopheles trusted any of his demons, it was Tom. Tom would make sure Sock would come.

“Yes sir,” Sock repeated, stoically. Meph sighed, and motioned he could leave with a wave of his hand. He turned back to Jon’s file after the demon had left. He flipped through it again before digging into the magical file cabinet and pulling out Sock’s.

He eyed the hefty folder. Jon’s file had been nothing more than a piece of paper, and Sock’s weighed like a whole dictionary in comparison. He slowly opened the file, and ruminated on what to do.

“Where should I put you…” 

He looked to the mirror shard, still floating where he left it.

“Any ideas?” Meph asked the shard.

** _“That I've been the best I can be…”_ **

Jonathan was expecting things to be weird when he returned to school Monday morning. He had spent the weekend mulling over the events of Friday night and Saturday morning, trying to figure out where exactly his interests lied. Was he gay? Straight? He was somewhat thankful that Sock wasn't around to see this. He wasn't sure he could handle the demon’s taunting. He could practically hear Sock’s jeers in his ears:

_“I KNEW IT!” _ He imagined Sock screaming, before winking playfully: _ “So, hot stuff, wanna mess around?”_

Jonathan cringed, and tried to shake the thoughts away. He thought back to how he spent the rest of his weekend. He pulled out his phone and read the conversations that took place. He had only spoken to Zack, and their message thread was full of texts of the two playfully flirting, or sending each other humorous memes. And then there were the late night confessionals; witching hour conversations about fears and hopes and whether or not aliens existed. Even the normally placid Jonathan found himself inclined to share more than he was used to. Zack seemed to have that effect on him. 

He encountered Zack waiting for him by his locker, two coffees in hand. He tried to hide the automatic smile that threatened to form on his face, giving a nod in greeting. Best to play it casual, after all. 

“Morning. You look like you can use this,” Zack offered, extending a cup to Jon.

“You saying I look tired?” Jon asked.

“Aren’t you always? I’ve seen you sleep in Mr. Donaghue’s class. It’s cute. You hide in the corner and pull your hood up, like Oreo.” 

Jon tried his best to ignore the cute comment, feeling his face warm. He mentally told himself it was from the coffee he had taken a sip of while Zack had been talking. “Oreo?”

“My pet cat. He hides his face when he’s sleeping. It’s so precious. Here, let me…” Zack was already searching through his phone, looking through his pictures, when suddenly the bell rang, signaling time for their first class. Zack’s face scrunched into a pout, his eyes darting above him, to the nearest school loudspeaker. The ruiner of adorable cat photos. 

“Show me at lunch?” Jonathan suggested. He eased the suggestion in casually, not wanting to appear like he was trying too hard. Like he didn’t have ulterior motives regarding spending time with Zack.

Zack’s “Sure!” was far too excited for 8 in the morning. But Jon found he didn’t mind.

Jonathan rather enjoyed spending his lunch with Zack, and soon they were making plans to hang out after football practice. Zack walked Jonathan home, the two opting to take the scenic route instead of taking the bus. The week continued as such, and Jon found his mood improving the more time went on. Sometimes they'd make out in Jon’s room after school. They'd play video games in Zack’s basement, and Jonathan began teaching Zack how to play his guitar. Friday rolled around, and Jon sat in the bleachers of the school’s football field, waiting for Zack’s game to begin. His headphones were draped around his neck, and he surveyed the crowd and the field, trying to get a sense of the event.

“Jonathan?” A voice called. He was surprised to see Lil approaching him. “What are you doing here?” A football game was, evidently the last place she was expecting Jonathan to be. She climbed up onto the bleachers and joined him. 

“Here to see the game,” Jon shuffled about, awkwardly. He hadn't spoken to Lil all week, only seeing her around in the two classes they shared. He avoided eye contact every time he spotted her, and prayed to disappear each time he did. Sitting here, next to her, he felt trapped.

“I didn't know you liked sports.”

“I don't.” There was a beat. Jon turned to her and spoke. “So… how have you been?”

“Pretty good, actually. You?”

“Fine,” Jon said. He could feel Lil’s gaze on him, studying his countenance. Her eyes bored into his very soul.

“Something’s different about you,” she finally admitted. “It's written all over your face.” Her eyes narrowed, and she gave him a once over. Jonathan hoped he wasn't blushing. Had he really changed that much? It had only been a week.

It was then that she spotted a hickey on his neck, and her face fell.

Fortunately the football players came out onto the field, and Jonathan turned his gaze to them to look for Zack’s number. Zack had said he was 06, and Jon scanned the lines of moving red uniforms, hoping to find the magic number. He completely missed the look on Lil’s face.

When he looked back to his left, Lil was walking away, and he watched her purple hair disappear as she walked down the bleachers and out of sight. 

** _“I don't think I can stand to be…”_ **

Jonathan didn't know how football worked before the game started, and he certainly didn't know how it worked after it was all over. He tried to cheer at appropriate moments, and boo at others. He tried to watch Zack, but in a sea of similarities, it was hard to pick his… boyfriend? Was that the proper term? It was hard to pick his Zack out.

He pulled up his phone, checking through old messages while he watched the two teams huddle to discuss their next play. At least, he suspected that was what they were doing. What other reason could there be for such conspiratorial gatherings?

There was a new message from Lil. It read: “Does she make you happy?”

He typed back: “?”

Lil: “The girl who gave you that hickey.”

Jonathan’s face felt hot and his eyes widened in horror at the text on the screen. He instinctively grabbed the hood of his sweatshirt and threw it over his head, shielding his neck from the outside air, or any other eyes that might happened to catch the remnant of Zack’s affection. He imagined Sock floating above him, singing:

_“Zack and Jonathan sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-”_

But his imagination was broken by a ping from his phone. A message from Lil. He ignored it, turning his attention to the game. A swath of highschoolers in red uniforms charged at a sea of blue ones. Jonathan checked the score, even though he knew he’d never understand it. 0-7. He had no idea which side was winning. Another ping went off on his phone, indicating he still had an unread message. He bit the bullet, as well as his bottom lip, and checked the message.

“...Jon?”

He sighed. Wrote an answer, thought about it, and then backspaced. Delete and start over. He did this twice more, before finally settling on an answer that was both vague and truthful:

“There’s no girl.” That was true. He hoped Lil would not read between the lines.

He watched as the little ellipses popped up, indicating that Lil was typing something out. A few moments went by, and then a few more, with no change. Still the “...”

_‘Is she writing a freaking novel?’ _he thought to himself. He scanned the field as he waited, spotted the 06, and watched as the two teams charged at one another. He winced when he saw Zack get taken down by another player. The hit had looked like it had hurt. Another ping went off on his phone, and Jonathan suddenly wished he was getting tackled instead of dealing with Lil.

“...really?”

Jon let out a groan of frustration, momentarily forgetting the game to deal with this.

“Really.” 

Lil was much quicker with the reply this time: “K.” He waited, but didn’t see any ellipses. Lil seemed to be done talking. Which suited him fine, because so was he.

Jon put the phone away, and turned his attention back to the game. He wondered what Sock would have said to all of this, and then caught himself. Why did he care what Sock thought? The demon was gone. Jonathan knew that, despite the nagging feeling that he was due for a “Hey, hot stuff!” any day now. What was he to do if Sock actually came back? And did Jon even want him to?

He mulled these questions over as the game ended and waited for Zack to come get him from the bleachers. Zack was grinning, and Jon couldn't help but smile when he saw Zack’s pearly whites. Lil and Sock were both immediately forgotten.

“You're in a good mood,” Jon noted.

“We played a good game.”

“You lost…” Jon reminded him, having figured out the score before the game ended. “At least you kept your promise. You did say I could watch you get your ass kicked,” Jon teased. 

“And I look good in the uniform., Zack added, after a laugh. 

“I guess...” Jon replied, causally. “You make 06 look good,” which made Zack laugh louder.

“Let's go get dinner. Losing makes me hungry,” Zack said, and they started off. As they walked, Jonathan gave Zack a once over, remembering how Zack had gotten tackled quite a few times that evening. He casually checked for any injuries, trying his best to look without being caught. As he looked, he couldn’t resist checking out Zack. Just a peek…

“What’re you staring at?” Zack asked, giving Jon an amused, yet flattered smile. 

_“You are so BUSTED!” _he scolded himself

“Nothing… So what's the deal with all the huddling, by the way? I meant to ask…”

Zack cut him off: “Secret football circle. We compare boyfriends and decide who has the hottest,” Zack said, matter-of-factly. Jon’s heart decided to freeze in his chest.

“...Boyfriend?” Jon croaked out in surprise, his eyes meeting Zack’s.

“Is that okay?” Zack asked, immediately worried that he said something wrong. Perhaps Jon hadn't been ready for that sort of thing. “...Cause I was just joking, really, and…”

But Jon smiled. Boyfriend. It sounded like it had a nice ring to it. The word sounded strange coming out of Zack’s mouth, but it was definitely something he could roll with. “I can be boyfriend…” He paused, realized how weird that sounded, and then immediately tried to backpedal. “I mean, that’d be cool,” he said, correcting himself, acting as if he didn't just flummox the word. Zack grinned all the same, linking his arm with Jon’s and leading him off.

** _“Where you don't see me…”_ **

Being a reaper wasn't all that it was cracked up to be. It certainly wasn't fun. Sock thought that escorting the dead past the river Styx and to either Heaven or Hell would at least be entertaining. But after four days, it had proved nothing but formulaic and monotonous.

It was the same: The person was confused, Sock told them they were dead. There was either denial or acceptance. Regardless, he escorted the person to their destination, which he received via an ancient, handwritten scroll. The scroll updated in real time, and Sock wondered why they didn't all just get phones. Meph said something like: “There's no reception down here, and the monthly bill is gonna hurt like Hell!”

Not being able to kill was the second worst part of the job. The worst was not seeing Jonathan. Meph had sent him to various parts of the globe to pick up the dead, but he never sent him to Jonathan’s neck of the woods. Sock could only enter the mortal plane from 9 to 5, and only while on the clock. Once work hours were over, he was automatically sent back to Meph’s office. It was apparent his boss had been keeping an eye on him, no doubt through the use of the scrying mirror shard. It was a fact that was upsetting and infuriating all at once. It was as if Meph didn’t trust him! 

As Sock finished up his shift Friday evening, he waited for the distinct pop and the dragging sensation he’d feel upon being yanked back to Hell. But unlike the days before, it never came. He waited, and five turned to six, and six to seven. Had Mephistopheles forgotten about him? Perhaps something had come up? But as he watched the sun begin to set, he began to realize the boon he had been granted. Sock was on the physical plane after work hours. It was a perk he hadn’t received since being a demonary. This was his chance to explore, to take in the view, to…

_See Jonathan._

Meanwhile, Jonathan’s dinner with Zack was… strange. Jonathan was used to getting lunch with Zack all week, but somehow the vibe felt different. With Lil, not much had changed in being her boyfriend. He still felt very much like himself, with the added addition of someone to mess around with. But now he felt totally new. Jon felt happy, which wasn't a thing he felt much. As Jon eyed his new boyfriend across the table, Sock felt like nothing more than a memory. A terrible, awful, distant memory. In fact, he was pretty certain Sock didn't exist at all. He had just been a friend Jonathan had made up to pass the time. Perhaps he was a formation of all the stress he had been feeling about school?  
  
_ “Or maybe you’re just so pathetic you make imaginary friends for you…” _he thought to himself, but he didn’t have time to wallow in pity for long.

Zack got his attention. “Whatcha thinking about?” 

Jon snapped out of it. He had been staring rather pensively into his burger for the past two minutes, not saying much. He was quick to recover. “Just… having a good time.” It wasn’t honest, but it was truthful.

“Yeah? So I haven’t totally messed things up yet?”

Jon chortled. “Eh. There’s still time.”

“Oh good. I was just waiting for an opportunity to ruin things. I thought throwing the game would do it.”

“It almost did. Keep trying.”

The air was filled with Zack’s laughter, and Jon found himself feeling lighter. Dinner ended, and Zack led Jonathan back to his car. The two spent the evening driving around, listening to Valhalla Soundbox. Before both knew it, much to their dismay, the night was over. After a very successful date (and subsequent make-out session in Zack’s car), Jonathan had come home. He had started his nightly routine, getting ready for bed…

Meanwhile, Sock waited for Jonathan in the shower of his bathroom, leering behind the curtain. It was then that Sock got poised to strike. He waited until Jon was distracted with brushing his teeth and…

“BOOO!” He screamed, flying out through the shower curtain and right at Jonathan, who made no reaction. His back was to Sock, so he should have been able to very clearly see Sock from the mirror he was looking into.

But Jon hadn't reacted.

“Did I scare you?” Sock asked. 

Silence, Jonathan finished brushing his teeth. He rooted around in the medicine cabinet for some floss.

“Silent treatment, huh? Two can play at this game,” Sock said, folding his arms. He waited behind Jonathan, studying the blonde in the mirror. It had only been a few weeks, but Jon’s entire demeanor had changed. He had stopped slouching. He looked well-rested. His eyes no longer looked dead, but rather, they looked full of life. Sock made a few faces at Jon, determined to get some sort of reaction. He prayed for a chuckle, or even an annoyed eye-roll. He got nothing.

Jon finished up and turned around, walking through Sock completely. 

“Jonathan?” Sock asked, worried now. Jonathan was no actor, and even if he had been trying to ignore Sock he would have cracked by now. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. “Jonathan!”

Jonathan went to bed, staying up a bit to text Zack. Sock tried to get his attention. But Jonathan paid no mind.

“JONATHAN!” Sock shouted. It was almost as if…

** _“And autumn comes when you're not quite done…”_ **

“He can't hear ya, kid. Can't see ya either.” Mephistopheles stated, and Sock spun around. Sitting on Jonathan’s dresser, Indian style, was his boss. He was watching Sock, and the demon had to wonder how long he had been there.

“What are ya doin’ here, Sowachowski?” Mephistopheles asked, notably lacking his usual smirk of amusement. 

“I was…” Sock started to say, before immediately stalling. There was no possible excuse he could give to explain this. He was in Jonathan’s room, after all, caught spying like a creep. He watched Jonathan text on his phone for a few moments, before turning his back on him. Sock tried to ignore a chuckle that came from the blonde. His simultaneously loved and hated the sound.

“I just needed to see him again. Usually I get sent right back to your office, but when I didn’t-” Sock started, but Meph put up a hand to silence him.

“You thought it was a good idea to go and make goo-goo eyes at Combs? I didn’t send you back because I wanted to see if you’d follow instructions. Obviously, you didn’t.” There was no hiding the growing annoyance in Mephistopheles’s voice now. 

“Am I in trouble?” Sock could tell he was getting on his boss’s last nerve, but he found he couldn’t stop himself, even when he knew it would have been in his best interest to.

“Should you be? I told you time and time again to keep away from the kid. And you’re back here,” Meph reminded him. Sock scowled in annoyance, his own frustrations rising and matching Mephistopheles’s.

“Look, if you're gonna fire me, just do it, okay,” Sock said. “I'm tired.”   
  
Mephistopheles studied his protégée, at a loss for what to do. “So am I, kid. So am I.” He placed his hands on his temples, and rubbed them. Sock could tell the Devil was trying his best to fight off the tension headache he was getting. 

“Can’t I just go back to being his demon? Please? I promise I’ll get him to do it. I’ll make sure he kills himself,” Sock vowed.

“That’s a no-go. You’re compromised.”

“No I’m not!” Sock insisted. “Just give me a week to-“

“No. You’ve already proven that-“

“What about a few days?”

“Sock, you’re making it really difficult to-“ The irritation in Mephistopheles’s tone was reaching a breaking point. His golden eyes returned to that murky level of darkness Sock had glimpsed for only a second before. His face snarled into an expression of fury.

Sock couldn’t help but persist. “A few hours? I know that I-“

“MR. SOWACHOWSKI, IF YOU INTERRUPT ME AGAIN I WILL IMMOLATE EVERY SINGLE CELL IN YOUR ENTIRE INCORPOREAL BEING INSTANTANEOUSLY!”

The voice Mephistopheles was using was not his jovial Jersey accent, but a deep, booming bass that seemed to rise up from the bowels of Hell itself. It echoed throughout the room, loud enough to make Jonathan’s entire room shake. The band posters quivered and danced from their tacked positions on the walls. The blonde didn’t see, just as he couldn’t see the devil sitting on his desk, or the ghost cowering right above him. 

Sock had floated to Jonathan’s side out of instinct, or out of fear, or both. He didn’t say anything, couldn’t find the voice to. He just floated in place, trembling, and trying desperately not to cry. Meph stared the demon down, daring Sock to utter another syllable, or even risk taking another breath. Sock didn’t take the bet.

A ping and a snort from Jonathan suddenly evaporated all the tension in the room, and both the ghost and the Devil turned to look at the human, who was furiously typing back.

Mephistopheles scowled at Jonathan, his black eyes narrowing. He hopped off the desk in one smooth motion and approached the teen, and before Sock realized it, he flew in front of Jonathan protectively. He stretched out his arms, as if to block the way. He didn’t need to say a word. Sock’s message was clear:

_“If you want Jonathan, you have to get through me. I won’t let you hurt him.”_

Mephistopheles noticed something in Sock just then. His normally green, vibrant eyes had become a dull, dead green. The kind of green that signified the end of summer and the beginning of autumn. It was a look Meph had seen in the scrying mirror once before: when Sock had killed that squirrel. Meph knew what that meant...

** _“With the summer passing by, but…”_ **

So Mephistopheles laughed.

Not with the booming voice he had before, but with a standard level of mirth. He opened his eyes and Sock saw that they were completely back to normal.

“You got moxie, kid. You just keep surprising me. I keep thinkin’ I get you pegged and then you completely surprise me. Do you know how hard it is to surprise me?” Mephistopheles asked. 

Sock gave a quizzical look, turning his head slightly to the side, like a dog. He opened his mouth to speak, remembered Mephistopheles’s threat, and covered his mouth with his hands.

“You can talk. Just don’t interrupt me.” Sock nodded, and Mephistopheles continued: “You realize you just proved my point, don’tcha kid?”

“...Sir?”

“You thought I was gonna hurt Combs and you flew out to protect him. You would have done anything you could to keep him alive. That’s the opposite of the demonary job description.”

Sock considered this, turning from Meph to Jonathan. He hadn’t been thinking when he had flown in front of Jon. That was all instinct. And there he was, still standing between his boss and his former counterpart. 

_“Maybe Jonathan is right. Maybe I do suck at my job.” _

That realization stung a bit. He hasn’t wanted to give Jonathan the satisfaction of being right. And yet there Jon was, three feet away, mocking him with his stupid new relationship. He wished he could take a physical form so he could throw Jonathan’s phone into a wall. He wanted to get in Jon’s face and scream at him. He wanted to be seen, really seen, and not just as an annoyance. He wanted Jonathan to see how much he cared. But that wouldn’t happen.

“I’m sorry, sir. You’re absolutely right. I deserve whatever punishment you want to give me. Just… don’t hurt Jonathan. Please?”

Meph raised an eyebrow. He hadn’t expected Sock to be so forthright about his behavior.

“Kid? You’re not gonna deny it or fight me on this?”

“‘No sir. But please, don’t hurt him. He's my friend. He's the first person besides my parents who wasn't scared of me. And… he made me feel something. And I don't want to see him hurt, Sock admitted. His face was red with shame, and he found himself staring at Jonathan, not wanting to look away.

Mephistopheles shook his head, a motion Sock didn’t see. He sighed. A long, drawn out, tired sigh that matched how Sock felt. “Alright, fine. I won’t lay a hand on Combs.”

“You won’t?” Sock swung around to look at his boss. He couldn’t help but be skeptical. He didn’t want to be, but Mephistopheles WAS the Devil. And deals never went well with him.

“No... I mean, I’m still gonna get his soul, make no mistake about that. I need someone to alphabetize the Hall of Crippling Phobias since you’re not doing that anymore… But I’ll let him live out the rest of his mortal life without any sort of involvement from me. I’m gonna have to re-negotiate with _ Her _, but I’m sure I can figure something out. Combs is safe.”

Sock felt relief. Waves upon waves upon waves of utter relief. It felt like warm rays of sunshine was coursing through his entire system.

“Thank you, sir. Thank you thank you thank you!” Sock balled his hands into little fists and he waved his arms excitedly. He floated over to his boss and half considered giving the man a hug, but stopped short. He had two many close calls tonight as it was.

Mephistopheles put up a hand to forestall any more excitement. “Hold it. Don’t get too excited now. I didn’t get into your punishment. Say goodbye to Jonathan, kid. And come into my office.”

Sock’s stomach dropped in his chest. He felt the urge to vomit but fought it back. Whatever was going to happen to him, he was not gonna like it. Meph held out a hand, like he had when the two had first met. Sock was not quite ready to leave, however. He flew over to Jonathan and tried to take in as much detail of the blonde as he could. He loomed over Jonathan, like some guardian angel, and he smiled when he saw Jonathan smirk at the phone. He couldn't help but wish he was Zack. But he could never be so lucky.

So, after a deep breath, he said: “Goodbye, Jonathan. I… I’ll miss you.” There was so much more he wanted, no, NEEDED to say. But he couldn’t.

Jonathan didn’t hear a word, and didn’t see the Devil and his protegeé leave with a distinct pop. His eyes were fixed at the phone screen, where messages from Zack awaited.

** _“I don't think I can stand to be…”_ **

“Now remember, kid. I’ll be usin’ the mirror shard to keep an eye on you throughout the day. You’re to stick with the target at all times. Haunt him, terrorize him, yada yada... make him kill himself. You know the drill. Although, I gotta say, you’ve got your work cut out for ya. Man, I am SO GOOD at punishing people!” Meph complimented himself, a tone of pride in his voice. 

Sock stood across from him, the two in the white office. Sock was doing his damndest to try and not pout, with almost no success. He glanced back at the manilla folder Mephistopheles had placed in front of him, and at the picture that was grinning back at him.

“Sir?” He asked, trying to keep his voice even. “Do I have to? I mean, surely there’s something else I could do instead. I can be your janitor! Or-“

“And kick Tom out of his job? He’s been employee of the month five milenia in a row. Now does that sound fair? To kick my best worker out of a job just so you can get out of yours?“ Meph asked.

“No...“ Sock whined. He hated this, he hated every single thing about this.

“I thought you wanted to be a demonary again!”

“I do, but-“

“Good. You start Monday. Don’t let me down, Sowachowski. You don’t have any more strikes left.”  
  
Sock sedately nodded as he exited the office, his mind on his newly appointed task. Haunting Zachary Phineas Melto. He scowled at the thought of his rival for Jonathan’s affections. How was he supposed to get the guy to kill himself? He seemed to have everything going for him. Solid A- student, quarterback, president of the school’s LGBT+ club. No history of mental illness, or genetic predisposition to mental illnesses. General jovial demeanor and positive outlook on just about everything. Melto had everything.

_“Melto has Jonathan…” _the demon thought, bitterly.

Sock knew this was going to be torture. Zack was unintentionally dangling Jonathan in front of him like a twisted marionette. And behind Zack, Meph was the one pulling the strings. The one benefit would be that he could see Jonathan, and perhaps Jonathan could see him. They could talk, and maybe Sock could explain...

While Sock received his new assignment, Jonathan and Zack, meanwhile, had spent their weekend hanging out. They ate sandwiches together, at Jonathan’s favorite sandwich shop, and played Madden on PS4 in Zack’s room. And of course, there were the make-out sessions. Jon was really beginning to enjoy those. 

It was after one of those extensive make-outs, that Jonathan turned to Zack. The two were just laying on Zack’s bed, enjoying the silence. It was peaceful, and relaxing, and Jon watched Zack slowly start to drift off to sleep. 

“Zack?”

“Mmm?” There was a sleepy grin that was on his face, one that Jon couldn’t help but find utterly adorable.

“Thanks for, uh… just, thanks for being so great.” The compliment sounded weird come out of his mouth. Jon was so used to being flippant, oe sarcastic, so to make a genuine compliment felt bizarre.

“No problem,” Zack said. “I know I’m awesome, but it’s nice to hear you say it.”

“Pfft. Dork.” Jon lightly poked Zack’s side, and Zack responded by reaching over and wrapping a big arm around Jonathan’s thin frame. He pulled Jon closer to him, and Jon let it happen.

A beat passed, and then another. All the while, Jonathan’s mind was swimming. He thought of Zack, and the relationship that had transpired over such a short time.

“Zack, why do you like me?”

Zack answered without any hesitation. “Cause you’re Jonathan.”

“Yeah but, I mean…”

“Dude. I can give you a speech about how I like your cool hair, and how you’re witty and good looking, and how you’re really fucking hysterical when you actually want to talk. I can go on about your good taste in music and your absolutely shitty taste in movies and why I like all of that about you. But I’m not gonna do that. I like you cause you’re Jonathan. That’s all.” Zack said.

Jonathan was bright red, and he didn’t answer, mostly because he couldn’t find a response. So he merely leaned closer and gave Zack a kiss, which the football player was happy to reciprocate. The two laid there for a while in silence, and Jon felt his concerns evaporate. So he played little spoon and cuddled with Zack, and another few beats passed. 

“What’s wrong with my taste in movies?”

** _“Where you don't see me….”_ **

On Monday morning, at 9 o clock on the dot, Sock popped into the Melto residence. Zack was just finishing up his morning routine, and had been brushing his teeth when Sock suddenly appeared in the mirror’s reflection, floating just behind him.

Zack let out a loud scream, before he spun around and saw Sock, and screamed again. The demonary laughed at the sight of Zack’s obvious fear, even as the footballer sprinted out of the bathroom and into his bedroom. Zack slammed the door behind him and turned the lock, before backing up onto his bed. He yelled again when Sock suddenly flew through the door and appeared with a loud “BOOOOOOO!”

“What do you want?” Zack had asked, his voice full of panic. It was the exact opposite of how Jonathan’s tone had been

Sock’s answer was the same, but this time it was brimming with a certain maliciousness: “I’m a demon… and I’m here to haunt you.” He flashed Zack a grin and stared down the football player with his big green eyes.

Gone was any sort of doubt or worries. Sock was going to enjoy pestering Zack. Convincing the kid to kill himself wasn’t going to be an easy task. But Sock didn’t see why he couldn’t have fun while he worked.. He couldn’t hurt Zack, but he could definitely screw with him.

“Why are you haunting me? I mean… what did I do?” Zack asked, trying his level best to keep his voice calm and his body still. He failed on both counts. His voice cracked and his body wouldn’t stop shaking...

Meanwhile, Jonathan waited at the bus stop for Zack, but Zack never showed…

Throughout the school day, Jonathan kept his eyes open for any signs of Zack, but there was none. He wasn’t responding to his texts either, a fact which really concerned Jonathan. He made a point to ask Lil, who shared a 4th period Math class with Zack. She eyed him for a moment with a look Jonathan guessed was suspicion before finally answering:

“I haven’t seen him.”

It had taken some time for the realization that a demon was in his home to sink in, and even more time for Zack to calm down. But once he did, he took stock of the situation: He had a demon, one who was going to haunt him for an undetermined amount of time. He could either spend it cowering, or try to make the best of it.

He took the latter. After several deep breaths to steady his nerves, he introduced himself: “I’m Zack. Zack Melto,” he said, cheerfully, extending his hand, “And you are?”

Sock was flabbergasted. Why wasn’t he afraid? “I’m Sock,” he answered, studying Zack warily.

“Cool name! I hope we can be friends, Sock.”

“Friends? But I’m here to HAUNT YOU. Why would I want to be friends!? It’s my job to get you to kill yourself!”

“Oh...” Zack said, considering this news. After a few moments, however, he spoke.

“Wait, you have to make me commit suicide? But you can’t actually hurt me?”

“Nope.”

Zack let out a series of laughs, in relief, and Sock could swear he saw whatever remnants of fear Zack was holding on to physically leave his body. “Thank goodness! Okay, yeah, I absolutely hope we can be friends,” Zack said, sincerely.

Sock’s mind was racing. What was this guy’s deal? Was this part of the punishment?”

“...you realize I want you to DIE, right? And you’re okay with that?” Sock asked. When he and Jon had this conversation, Jonathan had stressed he wasn’t going to die, and was outright antagonistic. Sock had only became friends with Jon because he wore Jon down. Zack, it seemed, was willing to skip that step.

“I mean I don’t want to die, obviously, and I’m not gonna go down easy, but it’ll be nice to be friends while you try, right? Besides, I bet you have an interesting story. What’s it like being a demon? And where’d you get the hat? Is that part of the uniform?” Zack asked, excitedly. More questions flowed out of his mouth.

Sock could feel his head spinning. This was not how this was all supposed to happen. Zack was supposed to be petrified, and Sock was supposed to drive the guy mad until he killed himself. Not become his BFF!

The doorbell broke Sock from his reverie and silenced Zack. Zack went for the door, with Sock following close behind. It was Jonathan, who had snuck out of school on his lunch break, to check on Zack. Zack hurled open the door.

There was Jonathan, and Sock felt as if time suddenly froze. Jon was looking at Zack, and at Sock, who was just behind the quarterback..

“JONATHAN!” Zack and Sock screamed simultaneously.

Zack threw his arms around Jon, hugging him tightly.. 

“You’re home? Why didn’t you tell me you were playing hooky?” Jon asked. He reciprocated the hug, and looked back to the inside of the house, where Sock was floating.

For several seconds Sock held his breath, as he waited for Jonathan to acknowledge him. Jon was looking at him, after all. But after a few moments he realized: Jonathan wasn’t looking at him, he was looking THROUGH him.

Mephistopheles’s punishment became all too clear:

_“He can’t hear ya, kid. Can’t see ya either.”_

Sock was doomed to observe Zack, to observe Jon. But…

“You can’t see me.” Sock said to Jonathan, who hadn’t heard. Because he couldn’t be heard either. Zack snapped his head around to look at Sock, and he looked from Jonathan to Sock and back again. He had so many questions. Did they know each other? Sock seemed to recognize him, but Jon was ignoring the floating ghost even while looking right at him. And as apathetic as Jon could be, Zack was pretty sure Sock deserved at least a reaction.

“Zack?” Jon asked. That snapped Zack to attention, and he was quick to lead Jonathan inside, instructing him to wait in his bedroom. Zack headed to the bathroom, and after many lingering glances at Jonathan, Sock followed. He hadn’t wanted to leave Jonathan’s side, but he remembered Meph’s instructions: stick to Zack.

Once they were alone in the bathroom, Zack whispered, not wanting to be heard. “You know Jonathan?”

Sock nodded, glumly. “I used to haunt him… Before I haunted you.”

Zack thought about it, and he remembered examples of odd behavior Jonathan had displayed throughout the year. “That explains so much. Huh.”

“But now he can’t see me. Why can’t he see me? It’s not fair!” Sock yelled, furious. He angrily tugged at the flaps on his hat, scrunching them up in his tightened fists.

“Hey, Sock, it’s okay. We can-“ Zack started, but the demon cut him off.

“It is NOT OKAY! I don’t want to be comforted by you! You have no idea what it’s like to be ignored! I read your file! Everyone freakin’ loves you! You even got Jonathan to notice you! And he wouldn’t even look at me!” Sock was screaming, and his body was shaking, and he angrily flew to Zack, staring at eye level, his green eyes full of rage. Zack’s brown eyes stared back, full of sympathy.

“So don’t pretend like you have any idea what it’s like to be ignored!” Sock yelled. If he had a knife, he would have swung it right into Zack’s jugular right then. But he didn’t. The only weapons were his words, and his fists, which quivered which each passing second.

“I’m sorry!” Zack whispered, putting his hands up in a defensive gesture, ready to catch a punch if needed. Sock had said that he couldn’t be harmed, but Zack was cautious just in case. “But that’s not my fault. Jonathan-“

“Shut up!” Sock interjected.

“Look, if you were really trying to kill Jon, then maybe it’s better he can’t see you…”

FUCK YOU!” Sock let out a yell and dove at Zack…  
  
\------------

“Everything alright?” Jon asked, when Zack finally emerged from the bathroom. Jonathan watched Zack look around his bedroom for a few moments, before his gaze rounded on the blonde in front of him.

“Just perfect,” Zack replied. Jon watched Zack check him out, his eyes traveling up and down his body. Jon tried not to turn red as he felt the footballer’s gaze. Zack crossed the room and joined Jon on the bed, practically tripping on his feet as he walked. The larger teen flopped on the bed, knocking into Jon and pulling him into a hug, landing on top of him.

They were mirroring their positions that first night they kissed. Jonathan had been pinned again, and Zack was looking down at him as if he hadn’t seen Jonathan in ages.

“Hey,” Zack said, cheerfully. Jon was looking right up at him, staring into Zack’s eyes. Deep brown eyes interspersed with specks of green. Did they always look like that? There was a hunger in Zack’s eyes, and it gave Jonathan nervous butterflies.

“Hey yourself,” Jon couldn’t help but smirk. “You wanna get off me?”

Jon didn’t get an answer, because Zack responded by suddenly kissing him. The kiss was aggressive, rough and disarming, but Jon reciprocated just the same. It wasn’t like Zack’s usually amorous affections. This time, Zack was insatiable.

Eventually, Jon broke the kiss, and went to get up from the bed, but Zack shoved him back down. “Who said I was done?”

Jon laughed, and soon Zack was showering him with kisses. Zack’s hands went up to his hoodie and slowly unzipped it, before throwing it off. His hands traveled to Jonathan’s stomach, grabbing the bottom of his shirt and pulling it over him and off his body. Jonathan was totally exposed now, and he couldn’t help but turn red, even as Zack caressed his bare chest. 

And then his hands traveled lower, down toward Jonathan’s jeans…

“Dude, whoa!” Jonathan exclaimed, interlocking his fingers in Zack’s. He held Zack’s hand tightly. “We said we were taking it slow, remember? This is… nice, but…”

Zack silenced him by kissing him again.   
  
“Relax, hot stuff. I know what I’m doing,” Zack promised, and Jonathan suddenly felt his blood run cold. It was as if he was hit with a blast of cold air, and he immediately got up, scrambling to his feet.

“What did you say?” Jonathan asked, the color draining from his face.  
  
Zack was quick to recover. “I said relax, Jonathan.” Zack’s eyes were fully green now, and he gave Jonathan a smile that was meant to be reassuring, but just looked off.  
  
Jon didn’t immediately respond, and reached over and grabbed his shirt from where it had been thrown on the bed. He threw it on, and spoke: “I’ll be right back.” The blonde then ran for the bathroom, his heart pounding in his chest as he tried to calm down.  
  
He turned on the sink and dunked his hands in the cool refreshing water, splashing his face a few times. He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. When he opened them, Jon saw Zack approaching him from behind in the bathroom’s mirror. But the mirror revealed that Zack Melto wasn’t all that he seemed. The mirror could see Zack for who he really was.  
  
In the mirror’s reflection, Zack’s eyes glinted a sickening, glowing green, and there was an unsettling green aura around the football player. It was an aura Jon had seen before, one that surrounded a certain demon whenever he was traveling through a solid object. When Jonathan spun around to face “Zack”, however, the aura vanished, naked to Jon’s eyes. Jonathan couldn’t see it, but he didn’t need to. Because he knew who he was looking at.  
  
It was…  
  
“Sock.’


End file.
